Window Shopping
by RayneSummer
Summary: In a small town, a woman gets kidnapped, and at the same time, all the windows in her house smash. Sam and Dean, with the slightly amusing help of Castiel, have to figure out and defeat the poltergeists of two murdered girls and their suicidal father before they get thrown through windows too. Team Free Will story, set season five because they were all together; Case-fic.
1. Chapter 1

**This is an idea that my friend Carys helped with. I just wanted to write about Team Free Will and she suggested windows so I could throw people out them, and I decided on a poltergeist in a window shop or something and she said that Cas should just be drinking coffee so that was decided. It's meant to be a case fic and some humor and mostly awesome Team Free Will; a tad lighter than my last story. Though it's pretty creepy at points too.  
Enjoy and please review~**

* * *

It was dark and cold. Mary shivered as she drew her coat closer around her and quickened her step through the street. She was almost at her house a few feet from the end of the row of shops, when she heard something smash.

She stopped and turned around sharply, scanning the area with developing fear in her eyes. After a second of silence, she turned to continue her way home, when she heard another small crash, and what sounded like a man's laugh.

Considerably freaked - as one should be when experiences something of the unnatural quality - she fixed her eyes on the window shop in front of her where the noise came from, trembling. She should run, and she knew she should, but she couldn't. Fear stuck her to the ground as she watched the door with wide, frightened eyes.

It creaked open. The spell of fear broke and adrenaline kicked in.

Mary tore off down the street towards her house, heels ringing out in the seemingly empty town. She ran up to the front door, and, whimpering and panting, willed her shaking hand to find the keys in her pocket to unlock the door.

She heard another noise and the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Not daring to look behind her, she located the key and attempted to put it in the keyhole, which proved difficult, as her whole body was now trembling in anticipation.

The keys dropped to the floor and she knelt to retrieve them, but they moved - all on their own. Childish laughter began from somewhere behind her, and she froze, terrified. Groping for keys that she could no longer see in the dark, she felt something brush her hand.

Mary lurched to her feet and staggered back a few steps, desperately searching the ground for this thing that seemed to playing with her. A hand ghosted her shoulder and she spun around, finally facing her tormentor.

In horror, she took in a leering face, manic grin, and bloody hands reaching for her. She screamed and screamed until her cries faded away into the unforgiving night and the only trace left of where she had been was blood spotted keys on the pavement.

* * *

Sam Winchester sighed and glanced disdainfully at his brother sitting opposite him at their table in the cafe. It was only six in the morning, but Dean had already been awake for an hour and had been whining that they needed to get on the road.

The younger brother sniffed and grimaced. It wasn't really his fault that he had gotten sick from their last hunt, which was why they had been stuck in a motel room for four days straight. Dean had stopped being concerned and had started being bitchy when Sam's temperature had finally come down from his 103 fever and stayed below 100.

A day later Sam could shower by himself and Dean insisted that they get back on track the next day. Sam just didn't think he meant five in the freaking morning.

"Yo, princess. You gonna order, or what?"

Sam jumped slightly and bitchfaced his brother, who was grinning like an idiot, before turning to the motherly waitress at their table. "I'll just have toast and a glass of water, please," he told her politely, and she nodded and made a note on her pad before moving off.

Dean chuckled quietly and Sam glared at him before rolling his eyes and returning to the newspaper he was reading before he got interrupted, effectively ignoring his annoying sibling.

Sam muttered unkind things under his breath about attention seekers as he scanned the articles in the paper. Most were stupid interviews with people who'd sworn they'd seen things like aliens, ghosts, or a set of bloody keys on the floor- wait, what?

His train of thought was cut off when he heard a fluttering of wings and Dean honest-to-God yelp as he jumped bad enough to spill coffee all down his shirt.

Castiel blinked as he watched the elder hunter curse and try to mop up the spill and ruined plaid while the younger one hold the paper up over his face to hide his sniggering. He shook his head slightly, still not understanding humans and why this situation was humorous. He found it quite usual that Dean should pour coffee down himself accidently because Cas had, as Dean always said, 'popped up out of nowhere'.

"For God's sake, Cas," Dean snapped, irritated that the angel was still watching him with that nonplussed look as he tried to clear up the mess that Cas had caused.

Cas tilted his head in confusion. "What do you require under the sake of God, Dean?" he asked without sarcasm.

Sam gave up hiding his laughter and put his head down on the table, giggling weakly like a girl, in Dean's opinion, which annoyed the pissed off hunter even more. He directed his glare at his brother instead and told him sharply, "Sam, quit laughin' like you're four, and either tell me you got something, or tell Cas to go away."

The younger brother forced himself to stop so he could straighten up, rubbing his stomach lightly. The laughing had not helped with the lingering ache there and he was feeling slightly uncomfortable now. He coughed and wrinkled his nose, wondering whether he ought to head to the bathroom as a precaution.

But Dean and Cas were watching him expectantly, so he worked to ignore his upset stomach and cleared his throat, smoothing out the newspaper and looking for the small article that had caught his eye.

"Apparently woman left work for the night and headed home, but never arrived back," he informed the other two. "Daughter said she found her mom's keys covered with blood outside the house."

Dean raised his eyebrows and reached for his mug before remembering why there wasn't any coffee left and giving Cas a dirty look. The angel was about to remark on either the article or Dean's look - Sam guessed the former as Cas wasn't usually sidetracked - when he was interrupted by the waitress returning with Sam and Dean's food.

The motherly woman glanced vacantly at Cas and reached behind her for a chair, pushing it towards the extra member of the party. "There y'are love," she said absently as Cas frowned and then obediently sat. "Do you want anything?" she asked.

Cas opened his mouth to reply when Sam quickly cut in, "no thanks; he's fine," with a quick smile. The woman shrugged and put her pad back in her pocket, telling the customers to call if they needed her, then walking away.

Dean glanced at Cas and shrugged too before digging in to his full English breakfast and looking back up at Sam expectantly, chewing.

Sam made a face at Dean, who pulled his 'what did I do?' look, before briefly glancing at his own toast and, feeling his stomach protest at the thought of food, pushed it away and focused back on the article.

"Anyways, get this - the police analysed the blood and it matches the woman," Sam concluded, putting the paper down and fixing his eyes on Cas instead of the unpleasant image of Dean eating.

"Is this a case?" Cas inquired gravely, meeting Sam's eyes.

Sam shifted uncomfortably at the angel's unwavering gaze, deciding he was never going to stare at Cas instead of Dean again, and replied, "uh, yeah... are we going to check it out, Dean?" He deliberately looked back at his brother, who glanced up, thankfully not with a mouthful of food.

"Uh, yeah, I guess." He speared a hash brown, and pointed it at Sam, probably to make a point, but it was making Sam sick. "You can do the research in the car, geek boy, when I've finished." He ate the piece of food, nodding at Sam.

The younger hunter hastily averted his gaze and scraped the chair back, quickly standing up. "I'm gonna, um..." he gestured helplessly and gave up, hurrying away to the bathroom.

Dean watched him leave with narrowed eyes, wondering briefly whether his little brother was actually up for the case. He wouldn't hesitate to leave it and hole up somewhere for another day or two if Sam wasn't well enough yet.

"Is Sam unwell?" Cas asked suddenly, frowning after said brother. Dean glanced at him and shrugged.

"Well, yeah. We were laid up for a coupla days, but now he's a bit better, we're off again. Ought to take it easy though. Evil doesn't have sick days," he added pointedly. Cas looked up at the sky with a puzzled expression; his 'I don't understand' face, and Dean sighed, ignoring him and returning to his breakfast. The people he hung out with these days.

* * *

"So, Cas, you really wanna partner with us on this one?" Dean asked for the tenth time in the last sixty miles.

The angel, sitting looking uncomfortable in the back seat of the Impala, nodded for the eleventh time and replied, "yes, Dean, I am fully capable of assisting you on your cases. I have worked with you on other occasions," he pointed out.

Dean rolled his eyes and glanced at his brother, curled up in the passenger seat with his laptop on his lap, researching the hunt. Dean had taken one look at Sam's pale complexion when he had come back from the bathroom and stood up, ordering them in the car and Sam to rest on the way.

Of course his stubborn brother outright refused to sleep, so Dean had dosed him up with ibuprofen and shoved a bottle of water and his laptop at him to shut him up.

As a result he had one slightly healthier brother and more information the case they were taking, although it came at the cost of also having one confused angel behind them who continually asked children's questions. He was like a toddler going through the 'why' phase.

Finally, he spotted the sign for the small town their case was in, and Dean followed the side road to a gravel filled car park and carefully positioned his baby inbetween a couple of white lines.

Sam snapped shut his laptop and put it under his seat and got out of the car after Dean, followed by Cas. The trio glanced around the quiet town. "Well this is too quiet," Dean remarked, before heading off towards the street.

Sam looked at him and grumbled, "anything quiet is too quiet for you," before rolling his eyes and following his brother and the still confused angel followed the two hunters without comment.

They stopped outside the sectioned off victim's house, that still had a few onlookers as police continued searching the premises. Dean casually wondered over to a girl who was watching with a sympathetic look on her face.

"Hey, I'm Dean," he smiled and held out a hand for her to shake. Sam quickly walked over to intervene before Dean started hitting on her and forgot to do the job.

"So, did you know the vic- uh, woman that got snatched?" he asked as innocently as he could. The girl withdrew her hand from Dean's and glanced at Sam instead, nodding.

"Yeah. I used to go to school with her daughter." She shook her head sadly. "Sally can't bear to be in this house any more after last night. She's gone to stay with her aunt," the girl explained.

Sam nodded sympathetically and absently brought a hand up to rub his forehead against a headache that was brewing. Dean, of course, noticed, and narrowed his eyes at his brother, who quickly dropped his hand and grimaced at being caught out.

"Why are all the windows smashed in this house?" Sam jumped about a foot and turned around so fast he almost tripped up. Dean raised his eyebrows at the overreaction, but switched his gaze to the angel now standing beside them, then glanced at the girl questioningly. She shrugged.

"Well, the only thing I know is that last night, there was apparently screaming, but all I could hear was a big crash, like loads of things smashing at once," she explained. Dean nodded thoughtfully, expressed his thanks, and then the three hunters moved away to a more private spot to talk.

Dean glanced at Sam, who had his 'deep in thought' face on. "Hey, thinker, you gonna let us in on your secret?" Dean prompting. Sam sighed and looked at him.

"Well during my research-" he began, before Dean interrupted, "obviously," and got a bitchface for his trouble, to which he put his hands up in surrender. Sam sighed all dramatically - like a teenager girl, Dean decided - before continuing.

"Anyways, apparently there's a window store in this town." He looked expectantly at his companions and was meant with one vacant and one confused look. "Um, so I think we could go check it out... unless, y'know, you guys have a better plan?" He addressed Dean more, who looking like he was about to argue about something, but the older hunter just shrugged, said that it was fine, and headed up the town.

Sam glanced awkwardly at Cas and hurried to join Dean while the angel followed them.

"So we just gonna look in the mirrors, Snow White?" Dean asked, glancing at his brother. Sam frowned.

"Well, one, they're windows not mirror, and two, it was the godmother that looked in the mirror; not Snow White," Sam explained absently, looking around for the shop and catching Dean's incredulous expression. "What?"

Dean shook his head. "Nothing," he replied, amusement in his voice. Sam huffed in annoyence and pointed wordlessly to an already creepy looking building next to them. Cas caught up with the brothers and tilted his head back, scanning the building.

"I will go and investigate," he stated, and disappeared before Dean could hiss, "Cas!"

The elder hunter rolled his eyes and gestured to the front door. "C'mon; let's talk to the owner while Cas is doing his thing." Sam nodded and followed him.

Inside, it was dusty and dark, light only filtering in through the, ironically, few thin windows situated around the tall building. It only seemed to have one floor, but also had a single ladder leading up to some kind of attic.

"Can I help you?"

Dean jumped and both Winchesters turned around to find the equally creepy and dark looking owner watching them mistrustfully. "We don't get many strangers around here," he croaked, almost accusingly.

Sam gave Dean a warning look not to reply to that, and glanced back at the man in an attempt to converse politely. "Uh, hello. We were looking for, ah..." he quickly looking around the room for inspiration. It was simply just windows. Sam mentally facepalmed himself; if was a window shop; what the hell was he expecting to see?

"We were wondering," Dean smoothly cut in, to Sam's relief, "about the windows here. You see, a friend of ours recently had all her windows smashed. At once," he added for emphasis.

The man narrowed his eyes. "So?" he asked critically.

"Well, so... we wondered if the same thing would happen to all the windows people have brought? We're, um, worried about our friends," Sam offered lamely as an explanation. To his surprise, instead of becoming more suspicious - they weren't exactly being the most subtle people on the planet - the guy sighed and his shoulders slumped.

"Yeah well," he mumbled, "they might well all fall down." The man scanned the two young men. "You two, like everyone else, may think I'm crazy, but I tell ya, there's strange things happenin' here," he told them.

"What strange things?" Sam asked in a hushed voice. The man looked around helplessly.

"Strange smashing at night, but when I come down in the morning, everything's intact. And..." he hesitated before continuing, "I been hearin' laughter. Of kids, y'know, little girls. And deep laughter too, like evil?" The owner's eyes grew wide as he explained his findings to the two Winchesters.

Dean frowned. "Why are you telling us this, sir?" he asked curiously. The man regarded them with heavy lids.

"You two are the only ones who's listened to my ramblin'. The rest just run as soon as I start. They'm think I'm crazy, see?" He gestured around him, at the dusty surfaces and the dark outlook, and leaned forward towards the boys. "The previous owner of this place, me uncle, ya see? He had two little kids, two daughters, and one mornin' he got up and they was dead. Throats slit. Next night, he hung himself. Right up in the attic."

He swallowed nervously and leaned back. "I daren't go up there," he told them, shaking his head, fear in his eyes.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

* * *

In the Impala, Sam tried to get comfy on the passenger seat without dislodging his laptop too much. This proved to be too difficult, so he sighed and settled back for some more uncomfortable research.

Dean had left him with strict instructions to 'rest up' for the hunt tonight, and research if he wanted. He had bitchfaced his brother and pointed out that without research they would be going in practically blind, which went against every rule they had.

Dean had rolled his eyes in reply and reluctantly given Sam his laptop and then left. Cas had yet to appear back to them, and so Sam was enjoying some peace and quiet by himself.

There was knock at the door and Sam almost threw the computer at the window for shock. Dean grinned and opened the door instead of knocking on it, climbing into the driver's seat, and looking expectantly at Sam.

"So? What do we know about this guy?" he asked. Sam rolled his eyes. Always expecting him to do the work...

Of course, he had.

"Well, previous owner was called Paul who lived alone with, sure enough, two daughters called Paula and Pauline." He glanced at Dean, knowing he'd probably question the use of such names.

Dean sighed. "No wonder they turned into such a weirdo family even after death," he muttered, making a face. Sam smirked and returned to his laptop.

"Yeah, anyways. So apparently police and stuff never found evidence of a murder, and the town started saying that he'd killed his kids for a reason to kill himself," Sam explained, noting Dean's disgusted expression and silently agreeing. Killing yourself was one thing, but your children too? That was a whole different case. The only thing that they had come close to in it was Constance Welch's case, the Woman in White they had faced when they first got back together.

"Freakin' dicks," Dean mumbled, closed rage on his face. This dude really was asking for his ass to be toasted extra crispy. Dean sighed and turned his attention back to Sam. "Anything else?"

Sam scanned the website and shook his head. "Nah; it was quite a while ago, and apparently not many people liked him anyways, so no one was that bothered about the whole thing. It kind of became a ghost story, but that fizzled out too. It's only recently that these disappearances have been happening."

Dean nodded, pleased. "Good. We'll go back tonight and set fire to his dumb ass for his dumb moves when he was freaking alive." Grimacing, Sam nodded. Dean glanced sharply at him. "You sure you're good to do this?" he asked immediately.

Sam sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." Dean gave him a look that said exactly what he thought of that statement, but didn't continue on the subject, deciding that if Sam felt well enough then Dean couldn't really stop him hunting, as much as he'd like to.

They sat there waiting for nightfall, so they could go back in the house, and suddenly there was a flutter of wings and Cas was behind them, with three steaming coffee cups.

He handed one to each Sam and Dean, keeping the last one for himself and sipping it. Sam and Dean watched him in amusement. "Um, Cas? Did you literally leave to get coffee?" Dean asked.

The angel shrugged. "Not really. I was walking the town to experiment with the windows, when this lady outside this shop told me I looked cold and would I like some coffee."

Sam tried to keep a straight face. "What did you tell her?" he asked, barely holding in his laughter - and a glance at Dean showed he was doing the same.

"I explained that I do not feel the temperature but she insisted that I drink, so I told her that I must get back to my companions, and she gave me one for you two each as well, and said that they were free because she wanted to get the 'hell' out of this town." Cas sighed and added, "I reminded her that this was not hell and she argued that it was."

Dean sniggered, losing self-control, while Sam managed to hold his laughter in, mainly because he knew his stomach wouldn't agree with that strain. "So, uh, you've been arguing with this lady for the entire time?" he asked casually, sipping his coffee.

Cas shook his head. "Some of the time. She told me to take the coffee back to you after about ten minutes, so I went to find you, but I could not, so I returned here and found that you are here," he concluded.

"You don't say," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes and drinking his coffee. Cas tilted his head in confusion. "But I did just-"

"Ah, so, um, we're going back to the window place tonight to get rid of the poltergeists," Sam hastily interrupted before Dean could get pissed with the angel already.

Cas turned his blue eyes on Sam and the younger hunter silently cursed the intensity of the angel's gaze. It always made him feel like he did something wrong. "Are you certain you would like to do this tonight?" he asked. Sam nodded.

"Yeah; we know all we need to," he replied logically. Cas thought about this for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully and continued slowly drinking the coffee. Sam watched him for a moment before shaking his head slightly at the angel's strange ventures he seemed to have, and sipping his own coffee while they continued to wait for nightfall.

* * *

_Chapter Two: hopefully tomorrow (though it's midnight right now so I mean hopefully in some hours)_

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, I know I said I would finish this the next day, but I got sick, and then got into the Hunger Games... anyways, tonight I determinedly read a load of Supernatural fanfiction so I would have inspiration to finish this. Also, a big shoutout to 'Lilybolt' who's reviews and praise and encouragement really keep me going! Thank you!**

**So without further ado, and before I loose my focus, here is the second and final chapter. It's quite creepy - I got chills while writing it - so do be wary about reading. It's quite long too, which is good. I definitely enjoyed writing it. Hope you like it and please review.**

* * *

Sam, Dean and Cas stood in silence in front of the window store, the wind blowing around them and the night about as dark as it could be, with no stars or visible moon in the sky.

Castiel glanced gravely at the two hunters, who were squinting at the house like they were trying to determine it's weakness or where to enter by.

"We could just walk in the door," Cas volunteered, consequencing in a double Winchester bitchface. The angel shrugged and turned to face the house again. He was only trying to help, and he still didn't know why they were just standing outside, watching it. It wasn't like the house itself was suddenly going to collapse or anything.

They stood there for a few minutes more before Sam finally gave in trying to hide his coldness and shivered slightly. That caught Dean's reaction and, despite his reluctance to first of all, listen to Cas, and second, just walk in practically unprepared for what could happen, he decided that they weren't doing anything out here, and at least it was slightly warmer inside.

He rearranged his grip on the salt loaded shotgun in one hand, and glanced at his companions. "C'mon," he muttered, starting forward towards the door of the house. Sam followed immediately, glad to get out of the cold wind, and Cas sighed slightly in what Dean would call exasperation before advancing towards the house too.

Dean glanced at Sam before swiftly using his lockpick to open the door, and pushing it open, leading the way inside. Immediately into hunting mode, Sam followed him, forgetting about the cold.

Inside the store, it was stuffy, dark and spooky - the windows around the room all reflected their pale-from-the-cold faces, multiplying them so it seemed there were a hundred Cas, Dean and Sams all around, all looking somewhat ready for a fight. It was unnerving, as it was probably suppose to be.

After a second of no movement or sounds, Dean started forward, beckoning behind him to Sam and Cas. The three hunters walked into the middle of the room and looked around again.

"What are we looking for?" Cas whispered to Sam, and practically before the younger brother could reply with a "shhh!", there was girlish laughter echoing around, as if it was a physical substance bouncing off the windows.

The trio froze; Sam and Dean frantically darted their eyes in every direction, waiting for the threat to reveal itself. Nothing happened and the echoes stopped, resulting in a tension filled silence. The men knew that their ghostly assailants would attack soon.

Sam glanced at Dean, and the older brother nodded. Without words, they agreed to briefly split up. Silently, they stepped away from each other and started walking into the shadows at opposite sides of the room, guns at the ready. Castiel, not sure what to do - his powers weren't helpful towards spiritual enemies, unfortunately - stayed in the centre of the room, looking around and listening intently to the scuffle of the Winchesters' feet on the dusty floor.

Staying still proved to be the worst thing to do in this situation, however.

Castiel barely had the warning of a chill creeping over his back, before a child's laughter filled the room and he was pushed forward by an invisible force, towards a window. He didn't have time to stop himself before another, harder, shove sent him head first into the window.

Cas couldn't feel pain, but he heard and saw the impact; the window smashed as he went through it and landed on the other side in a mess of glass, with the last few shards falling on him, cutting his face and neck. As he stood up, he caught his reflection in another window - his vessel could still bleed, and there were countless drops of red forming on all the little cuts.

There was a burst from a shotgun, and a booming, male, laugh rang out, echoing around louder and more dangerously than the little girls', smashing a few windows by itself.

When Cas turned, he found a middle aged man standing in the middle of the store, where the trio of hunters had stood barely five minutes ago.

The man had a truly terrifying face: many of his teeth were missing, and his gums were black with disease. His grin lit up his dark eyes into a dangerous lunatic's glow. The bulging muscles in his arms showed his lethal strength. And although it was only a ghost, the solidness with which Paul, the previous, mad, owner of the store, stood suggested a stronger spirit than usual.

Cas glanced into the shadows, and he immediately saw Sam and Dean on opposite sides of the ghost, not yet noticed. He didn't know who had shot a round, why or what at, but it didn't matter right now. They needed to take out this ghost. Unfortunately the only idea they had on how to do that was the fact that the real Paul had hung himself in the attic.

Sam edged closer to the light, and the poltergeist. He didn't think he or Dean had yet been seen, but when he glanced at Cas, he knew that was who the ghost was targeting. The angel had various injuries on him and was standing on the other side of a broken window. That was enough clues. Hopefully he or Dean could go into the attic and take out the ghost as it focused on Cas.

But when Sam looked back at the figure in the middle, he froze. The terrifying face was turned towards him now, leering. _So much for that plan for me_, Sam had a second to think before he was flung back in the way that ghosts like to do to hunters who attempt to kill them for sure. Usually they're a little pissed.

The younger hunter hit the window behind him with such a force that even the double glazing broke, and he even hit the wall behind it before slumping to the ground, place spinning and head thumping in pain. The same sensation was around his face and neck and Sam had no doubt that he now looked like Cas, but maybe worse. Unfortunately for him, he was a human and so he could feel and be damaged by his wounds. Just frigging great.

Dean fired at the ghost the second it had seen Sam, but this new powerful spirit had just held out a hand at the salt and it had just disintegrated his arm instead of making him disappear. This gave Dean a second's warning to duck as a small bathroom window was launched at him. It shattered on a window behind, still raining sharp glass down on Dean, but he had the foresight to put his arm in front of his face so it just cut the leather of his jacket.

But the attack had given the ghost a chance, and it had turned its attention back to Sam, who was already the most hurt. Dean was itching to check on his brother, but knew that with the ghost still around, that would be futile and would mean both he and Sam would be thrown again.

Instead, he turned tail and ran at full speed at the stairs for the attic that the old man earlier had pointed out. Sam had been unable to find out where the dude's bones were during his research, but seeing as Paul had hung himself in the attic, and no one had been up there for ages, it was a legit place to try.

He skidded to a halt at the bottom of the wooden staircase, heart hammering in his ears as he instinctively raised the shotgun at the two girls who stood hand in hand a few steps above him, blocking the way.

Dean hesitated. Apparently their father had killed these girls in order to kill himself. That meant he didn't know whether these ghosts were really a threat, or just a distraction, the way they were in real life. He really didn't want to shoot innocent children who shouldn't of had to die in the first place.

Suddenly, there was a yell from the other side of the shop, and Dean knew that Sam had been caught up with the ghost. He gritted his teeth as he forced himself to stay there.

When he almost immediately looked back at the staircase, the girls were gone. Warily, he began to climb the stairs. He heard a noise behind him and turned, pointing his gun. There was no one there. Sighing, he turned up again, and there they were, holding hands again, staring impassively at him. He hesitated, slowly bringing up his gun.

That split second hesitation almost cost him his life. The girls' faces split into identical manical grins and Dean realised what was going to happen just before it did, and he didn't even have time to raise his gun.

The twin ghosts shoved him backwards off the stairs so he fell to the bottom, bruised and battered with probably broken ribs. He looking up with a pained groan to find the two girls holding a window above him. Their eyes had transformed too; they were slitted like a snake's and Dean saw that they actually had fangs instead of teeth. He was horrified. What had happened to these seemingly innocent ghosts of once beautiful girls?

Their grins widened and Dean realised they were going to drop the window. And at that small height, and that close to his head, it would surely splatter his brains out.

* * *

Sam was having troubles of him own.

The ghost of Paul had indeed found him, and cornered him, and was intent on defeating him. Sam, for his part, had managed not to black out after contact with the window and then the wall, and had found his feet in time to back away from the oncoming ghost.

He had lost his salt gun when he had been thrown, so he had no real defense to help him. He just kept backing away from the ghost, who kept cackling, as if it knew that Sam had nowhere to go and, even worse, had blurry vision at best while he battled to stay alert.

Concussion. Great. Frigging awesome, that.

Sam doubted he could more sarcastic as he was currently being, he decided as he barely managed to step back from a swing from the seemingly solid ghost. Frigging ghosts with power. Frigging ghosts with throwing things. Frigging ghost dicks, man.

He didn't know what Dean was doing, but whatever it was he'd better finish it fast because Sam knew he couldn't keep this up much longer. He was right; he stumbled backwards, as he had been doing, but this time he tripped on something.

Letting out a quiet groan of pain, he tried to focus on the figure looming above him, but without luck. He could see it raise something though, and he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that at least this blow from whatever it was would end the ringing in his ears for a bit.

It never came. Cautiously, he opened his eyes and made out Castiel, who was now standing over him. He had a shotgun in his hand and was regarding it thoughtfully. Evidently he had shot the ghost right in the chest, forcing the whole being to vanish. Sam sighed and let himself slump back on the ground, the blackness inching in, before he remembered Dean.

The second the girls had sensed their father had been shot, they had looked up sharply, giving Dean the split second warning he needed. He rolled over and out of the way as he could, so when the ghosts vanished to find out what had happened to their father, the window that was about to kill him landed inches beside him instead, shattering loudly at contact with that ground, and spraying Dean with sharp shards.

They cut at his face and snagged at his jacket, but Dean allowed himself to rest a moment, having just managed to get out of death that time. "That was too close," he muttered, breathing fast.

Quickly, he gathered himself and pushed himself up, swaying. His bruised or broken ribs flooded his chest with pain, and the little cuts on his face stung like fire. Dean forced himself to ignore the pain and focused on the stairs that had been laying at the bottom of.

He gripped the wooden rail with white knuckles as he made himself walk up them quickly, before the sisters from hell could throw him down them again. He would show no mercy this time. Clearly they were as bad as their father. It must have been some family time.

He made it to the top and tried the door. It was locked. "Son of a..."

He felt in his pocket, but his lockpick - like the gun - must had fallen out of his grasp when he was lying at the bottom of the stairs. He all but collapsed against the attic door, allowing himself to feel despair for a moment. The pain was beginning to make him foggy.

Suddenly, there was Sam, at the bottom of the stairs. His face was twisted in pain too, and Dean could see similar cuts on his face. "What do you need?" he called up the stairs to Dean.

Dean gestured to his gun and the lockpick that he could now see beside Sam's feet. Sam glanced down, then back at Dean and the door, and worked it out in a second. He grabbed the lockpick, and the gun for good measure, as he hadn't been able to locate his, and threw the former at one of the three Deans he could see right at that moment.

Thankfully it was the right one, and Dean's hunter instinct caught the lockpick barely before his brain could register the hand-eye coordination. He turned and, sitting awkwardly now, moved the contraption around in the keyhole until it clicked, announcing that it opened.

He glanced back down the stairs, and froze. The twins were back, and this time there was no manic grin - there was something more dangerous; hatred, in their demon-dark eyes.

They were shot at behind. _Sam_. Dean nodded in thanks, still not feeling like he could talk without opening his mouth and throwing up from the pain. Sam nodded back, but then took an unsteady step backwards to steady himself, and collapsed against the wall, startling Dean.

He was still conscious, Dean could tell from the slight raise of the gun, but barely. Dean forced himself to get into the attic room, burn the bodies that he would hopefully find there, and then tend to Sam. He couldn't do anything if they were still under pretty lethal attack.

Turning, Dean grit his teeth against the pain - Sam must be feeling even worse, and he was still fighting - and got back to his feel, walking into the attic room. It was pitch dark, and he fumbled against the wall for a light switch. He found a string hanging from the ceiling and pulled it hopefully.

A single bulb lit up the small room and Dean could barely keep himself from yelling in fear and shock. The room was full of painting. Not just any, though; these all featured a portrait of someone screaming, eyes deadened and blood around their lips, screaming silently and forever for help that would never come. And suddenly Dean knew. These were all the ghosts' victims.

Sickened to the stomach by the sight, Dean looked around, at every glance met with the fading light in the eyes, the screaming mouth filled with blood.

Shaking now by the sight of such horror, he turned to the doorway, and was greeted with the same face each victim must have seen - leering, eyes full of lethal, uncontrollable, madness, arms bulging with strength that promised no escape.

Dean realised he didn't know what to do to get rid of this ghost. It would kill them and many, many, other people if not defeated. He felt in his pocket without taking his eyes off the spirit, for inspiration.

His fingers brushed a box. Matches. _Yes._

Slowly, behind his back, Dean pulled the box of matches from his back pocket. "Quite a collection you have here," he addressed the ghost casually, all previous fear already replaced by anger.

Paul's ghost grinned wider, showing the black gums and dark holes where teeth should be. "Oh, I know," he rasped, taking a step forward. "And you, and your brother; you're next."

Carefully, Dean got a match out of the box and held it to the lighting paper on the side. "Oh, I don't know," he replied lightly, copying the poltergeist's tone. "I would say we're a bit too experienced for your taste," he said conversationally.

The ghost licked its lips with a black stained tongue. "Oh, no," he hissed, crouching. "You're just right."

He pounced and Dean lit the match and dropped it on a portrait.

The ghost hit him with such a force that the wind was knocked out of him, but immediately realised what he had done. "Oh, you son of a bitch," Paul's spirit growled at Dean, and before he could tell him that that was in fact his own phrase, suddenly the thick hands were at his throat.

Dean barely had time to put together a decent thought, such as _oh shit_, before he couldn't breathe in the slightest and his vision began whiting out. The smoke was beginning to get so thick in the air that Dean decided it wasn't such a bad thing that he couldn't breathe. And then there was nothing.

* * *

Castiel shot the spirit from behind.

It dissipated immediately, a brief cry or scream emitting from it before it burned away, gone. There was a slight trace of childish laughter in the air, that echoed briefly around the burning room, before that too disappeared.

It was over. And Cas was left with a burning room, and unconscious Dean and a severely injured Sam. To use the Winchesters' method of sarcasm, this was just _great_.

"Cas, get Dean out of there!" The angel heeded the call from below, because the smoke was already too thick to breathe safely, and the flames were spreading to obliterate everything in there. The whole building was going to go up in a minute.

Cas quickly moved into the room, and spotted Dean laying, pale and unconscious, near where he had started the fire. It was already inching near him, giving him one moment to flee before it consumed the whole floor.

Cas made his way to the elder Winchester, and picked him up effortlessly, putting his arm over his own shoulders and dragging him from the room. He took him to where his brother was waiting, barely conscious himself, and Cas knew they weren't getting out of here in time under their own power.

He placed two fingers to Sam's forehead and two to Dean's, and the three of them vanished from the rapidly collapsing house.

Sam opened his eyes and took a deep breath of fresh air. He saw they were outside, and next to the Impala. Near him, Cas was squatting next to Dean, who was lying on the floor looking way too pale for Sam's liking, looking completely unsure of what to do. He looked at Sam.

The younger brother managed to crawl the few yards to the Impala, where Dean and Cas were. With his own shaking hands, he ran them across Dean's body, taking in and assessing the damage.

There were dark bruises forming at his throat and he was breathing very shallowly, as if it hurt to breathe even in unconsciousness. This seemed to be the worst damage; the rest were just cuts and bruises like Sam's, apart from broken ribs on Dean that Sam could also feel.

He hesitated. He wondered whether they needed a hospital - mainly for Dean's throat and the fact that Sam could feel himself needing to pass out, which he couldn't do if he needed to look after his brother. But Sam didn't even know if he stay conscious long enough for them to get there, and he didn't really want to call an ambulance this close to a crime scene.

Thinking desperately, he looked at Cas, who was standing over the brothers, for inspiration.

Immediately, the angel crouched down next to them, and Sam found himself once again looking into those sincere blue eyes. He cursed silently. He really wished Cas would stop making him look into his eyes. It was just weird and way too intense.

"Sam, I can heal one thing if you would like assistance," Cas told him gravely, then indicated Dean. "I am guessing you would like me to heal Dean, as he is the most injured. However I am aware that he will be rather annoyed if I ignored your injuries."

Sam almost smiled. The angel did know them quite well. He nodded gratefully. "Well, Cas, if you could just heal Dean then that'll be okay. He can take care of me," Sam offered.

Cas nodded. "As you wish." He put two fingers to Dean's forehead, and a moment later the colour was back into the elder hunger's face, and he was breathing easier. Sam sighed in relief and turned back to the angel to thank him.

"I have not healed his physical injuries because they are not dangerous and are also easily curable. This is so I can heal yours, but I am afraid I cannot help with the head injury, as I have just healed your brother," Cas informed Sam with a trace of apology. Sam nodded.

"That's okay, Cas; we couldn't have done this case without you," he replied gratefully. "Thank you."

Castiel nodded and then held out two fingers and held them to Sam's head. Immediately he felt the burning scratches on his face disappear and cease to exist. He nodded in thanks, but now the full extent of his concussion made itself known, and he leaned back against the car, knowing he was going to pass out any minute.

Cas noticed this and quickly roused Dean, who now awoke easily, feeling much better. "Cas, what are you..." he mumbled.

"Dean, your brother requires your assistance," the angel told him urgently. Dean turned, just in time to catch Sam before his head his the ground. He glanced, shocked, at Cas.

"Did you-?" he started, and Cas interrupted.

"I healed you, as you were more injured, and then healed Sam's physical injuries, but he has a head injury that you are required to look after." The angel stood up and looked around. "I suggest you leave this place. I have to go."

Dean nodded numbly, but just before Castiel prepared to leave, he said, "thanks, Cas."

The angel nodded. "You are welcome. Look after each other, Dean," he replied, and then he was gone. Dean turned his attention to his unconscious little brother in his arms.

"Come on then, sasquatch," he muttered, getting up and pulling Sam with him, putting him in the passenger seat carefully, and getting into the driver's side to find a hotel somewhere to fix Sam up. This alone was something he could fix.

* * *

"So, yeah, turns out the girls had killed each other," Sam informed Dean from his bed, where he was meant to be resting. But that was beyond him, so Dean had, as he had at the very start of the hunt, shoved ibuprofen, water, and his laptop at him to keep him quiet and in bed for a little while more.

Dean sighed and shook his head wearily from his own bed, where he was assembling and cleaning all their weapons for something to do. They had already been stuck in this room for five days. Sam's concussion was pretty bad, but once he had stopped throwing up and seeing double a couple of days ago, Dean had been relieved enough to decide not to go to the hospital after all, and stop being at his side all the time, though he was still keeping a good eye on him.

"Freaking insane people, man," Dean replied to Sam's comment, clicking a shotgun shut after being cleaned.

Sam shrugged and continue scrolling through the new article that had come out. After the mysterious fire at the window shop house place - that no one, not even the current owner before it had happened - had pretended to be sad about, the police did some more investigating. Interestingly, the fire had led them to find more clues, and to determine the fate of the family.

He read the last line of the story a couple of times, then stared into the distance, thinking. It had said how both girls were sweet always in appearance, but were lethal as hunters in the dark. Wasn't that basically what hunters were? All nice to get information, then going to kill the bad thing in the night, not allowed to show mercy.

What a life. No wonder the girls and their father took their own lives. They wanted to be stronger that just hunters; they didn't want to be just human. So they became lethal spirits after their deaths, with no end to their power.

It had taken them a while to work out how the whole ghost thing worked, as none of them were the greatest at thinking. But once they had, then that was it. All the people who had disregarded them, all the people who had ignored their existence in life, got murdered and painted as they died.

Then when hunters where drawn in... well, that was the whole point. They had a plan. To prove they were better than human hunters. To prove they couldn't be beaten.

Too bad they took on the Winchesters and their angel in their first round.

Suddenly, the laptop was slid off Sam's lap, and Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him worriedly. "You feel sick? Your headache gone up again?" he asked.

Sam shook his head. "Just... frigging ghosts, man," he mumbled in return, surprised to find he was actually exhausted. Dean chuckled, not entirely hiding his concern, and pushed Sam down.

"Here. Get some rest. Don't want Cas to have to save us like damsels in distress again, now, do we?" Sam smiled wearily at Dean's joke - he knew it meant thanks for the angel - and obeyed his hand guiding him down to lay on the bed.

He sighed and closed his eyes, knowing Dean was watching over him. And, somewhere, Castiel was too. Team Free Will always have each other's backs, and that's enough for them. Always.


End file.
